


Cool

by shytrash



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, F/M, LITERALLY, Loki Does What He Wants, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytrash/pseuds/shytrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in Stark Tower with Prince of Gloom can be exhausting. And cause a lot of sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taste

Maybe it has something to do with being locked in Stark Tower with the dark, sulking Prince. Darcy has always felt attracted to him, like there is some sort of weird connection. However, he's too god damn stubborn to talk to her, to acknowledge her existence. So, naturally, Darcy does the same. She tries incredibly hard to ignore him. Walks straight past him without even noticing that he was standing there. She knows she has peaked his interest, wondering why all of a sudden she no longer attempted to make him watch hours of Netflix or, heaven forbid, try to have a  _conversation._

No, the God of Mischief and Lies was like an angst-driven, hormonal thirteen year old girl who just had her first period. Darcy herself isn't as bad as him, even in her worst moods, and she is legendary for the wrath of her moods. Thor has long since given up on his dear brother, instead choosing to leave him be until he was ready to _cooperate_ and _make friends_. That, Darcy strongly believed with every fibre in her mortal body, was never going to happen. He mopes around on their shared floor of Stark tower - the floor she named  _Land of the Rejects -_ or simply refuses to leave his bedroom. Sometimes Darcy has to take meals to his bedroom door, knocking until he answers just to make sure he's still alive and not wasting away in there. _  
_

Today, Darcy was quite fed up with the Prince. He hasn't left his room in almost two days and she refuses to bring him any more meals and fuss over him.  _Fuck him,_  she thinks. Yeah, why should she fret and stress over one super attractive, whiny, raven-haired Norse Prince? Who cares if he is so delicious she could spend all day on he knees worsh- nope. She refuses to finish that sentence. Just because he's attractive doesn't mean Darcy can let her mind run all over the place with ways that she would appreciate his body.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit._ Enough. No more. Darcy Lewis refuses to fall into the abyss that is his emerald eyes and finely chiselled body. Instead, she puts her loose dark brown curls into a messy bun, forgoes pants and decides to make pancakes. Why? Because fuck you, pancakes. That should be reason enough. It's only 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning, everyone else in the tower is either still sleeping, working or on a mission. Darcy Lewis has given herself a small holiday after finishing her university course. This holiday consists of spending the money she's saved up while working for Jane and more recently Tony Stark, the genius himself and cooking pancakes in her underwear whenever she damn well feels like it. 

She decided to put in her headphones, not wanting to blast her favourite songs in case the Prince of Doom decides to come out of his cave to see what was happening. She happily let the sound of The National - her favourite band - fill her ears, going through the regular routine of making pancake batter. It took Darcy a total of ten minuets to make and cook her pancakes. Watching the busy streets of New York City was her favourite thing to do while she ate quietly, lost in the sound of some of her favourite songs. She always thought it was so weird that this is her life now. Norse Gods, genius billionaire playboys (well, recently married playboy) and big, expensive apartment courtesy of said genius. What did she do to deserve this? Growing up she thought she would be stuck in some small town - which she almost was working for Jane. Then Thor and pop tarts happened and things have never been the same. Sometimes she almost misses the simplicity of living with her mother and father, but Darcy Lewis knows she would never trade this experience for anything. 

It happened when she was washing the dishes. All she was doing was singing along to whatever started playing on her iPod, hips swinging in time with the beat when she felt hands on her hips and she didn't even have time to squeal before she was spun around, coming face to face with those striking emerald eyes. "Loki," Darcy's breath was but a whisper, all thoughts lost. She couldn't focus now that all she could see was striking cheekbones and black hair and pink thin lips and those  _eyes_ that are quickly becoming blown with something- lust? Want? The thought brings forth a heat in Darcy. 

"You," he growls, "have teased me quite enough. I cannot simply watch you any more. I need to touch you." His voice was like velvet on her skin and suddenly his mouth was on hers, all hesitation and rational thinking out of the window. Darcy's surprise was quickly turning into arousal and she could hardly suppress the moan when Loki's tongue was pushing its way into her mouth. He tastes like mint and something so  _Loki_ there isn't a word to describe it. She finds that she loves it and never wants their desperate, lust fuelled kisses to end. The bench is digging into her back and it hurts, but when Loki's hand slides up her t-shirt, eagerly feeling every surface of her body, Darcy doesn't care if he bends her over right here - she actually kind of hopes he will. 

With every sound that leaves her lips Loki becomes more eager, more determined to force another moan from her. Suddenly there's a cool breeze across her chest and she pulls away to look down, seeing her beloved oversized t-shirt is simply  _gone,_  probablymagicked away to god knows where. Loki can obviously tell she is about to rant about how that was her favourite fucking shirt so he tries to distract her with his open-mouthed kisses on her breast and she doesn't give a fuck about the stupid t-shirt, she arches her back up, silently begging Loki to continue. Which he does, kissing and sucking and  _biting_ , leaving Darcy a writhing mess, head thrown back and mouth parted in an 'o' shape. His hands haven't even touched where she desperately wants them but she knows that she is practically dripping for him. 

"Please, please, Loki, please," Darcy manages to say, voice taking on a sultry tone. She tries to angle herself so she can rub up against him - searching for any kind of friction. Instead, he grabs her hips to still her, hands wandering everywhere but where he knows she needs them. It's driving her crazy, she's getting frustrated. 

"What do you want, Darcy?" He whispers, face pressed into her neck as he leaves kisses and marks she knows will last a couple of days. 

"I want you, please, Loki," normally, Darcy Lewis doesn't beg. Except for when there is a Norse God that suddenly wants to torture her or fuck her. 

"Where do you want me?" She can hear his amusement, which angers her further. Why should he get to have all the fun? 

"Here," Darcy says, voice confident as she slides his hand down her stomach, his fingers leaving a cool trail that makes her want to shiver, to the front of her panties. "I want you here." Loki's sharp intake of breath is all she needs as she arches up against his hand, both of them groaning. She's rewarded with Loki _ripping_ her underwear away and then his thumb is rubbing slow circles against her nub and Darcy cannot focus or think, can hardly remember to breath. 

"Lay down." Loki commands, voice leaving no room for arguing as he helps lifts her slightly onto the counter and then she's flat against it and Loki is between her legs, thighs on his shoulders. The sight makes Darcy feel a wave of something she hasn't quite felt before. Even through all of her life, no guy has ever given Lewis decent oral. It's always too much teeth or no idea what the fuck they're doing down there, but Loki changes that. After this, Darcy will never be able to sleep with a regular mortal man again. Loki's tongue is swirling around her clit, teasing, fingers slowly sliding inside of her and it's all so much, so quickly. Her orgasm is rising quickly and her skin is starting to break out in a light sweat. Every time she sees the Silver-tongued Prince she imagines twisting her fingers in his raven coloured locks and now she  _can_ and she thinks she won't be able to let go. If the death grip she has on his beautiful soft hair is hurting, he doesn't complain. He actually moans slightly when she twists her fingers and that sound could very well make her explode. 

"Fuck, Loki!" His name is falling like a mantra from her plump lips and she can't help but roll her hips and it feels like  _heaven._ Those long digits are pumping in and out, getting faster as he works her clit tirelessly and she thinks she might die from the stimulation. Those green eyes are on hers and as much as she want to, Darcy can't look away and the hunger in his eyes are bringing her closer to bliss. The tightening in her stomach is increasing and it's only when she hears a murmured  _come for me, Darcy Lewis_ does she snap. 

Bright white is all she can see as Darcy's orgasm rips through her, back arching so far off the counter it almost hurts and her legs wraps around Loki's neck, keeping him completely still as he forces her to ride out her orgasm. There's wave upon wave of pleasure and all Darcy can say is  _oh_ and  _Loki_ as well as completely incoherent sounds. Never before has Darcy Lewis, lame 29 year-old intern experienced such a heavenly experience. As she slumps back down onto the counter, hands falling out of the Norse God's hair and legs now numb, she wishes that she can relive that moment over and over. Hell, she plans to as soon as she's recovered from it. Loki's smirk against her inner thigh makes her roll her eyes, but she's too exhausted to care about the Trickster at the moment.

However, she does know that she will have to pay him back for that. 


	2. Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short. I just wanted to test the waters, I am not very confident in writing Loki or these kind of fics and I honestly didn't intend to continue this fanfic at all, but the responses have been amazing and have pushed me to produce another one. I don't want to jump into the intense stuff so this is just me, seeing how this goes. Tell me if I make any mistakes, please! (I was so embarrassed by some of the stupid mistakes I made last chapter - which should be cleaned up, hopefully!) Thank you for your kindness and your comments, it means so much.

After her mind blowing orgasm, courtesy  of the Silver-tongued  Prince, Darcy lets herself relax on the counter, utterly exhausted. Honestly, she could fall asleep here. She has fallen asleep in worse places before (ask Jane). It takes Darcy a couple moments to realise that Loki is fixing her up - somehow she has underwear on again - while his hands run along her body, making her like jelly against the counter. She can't help but think back to when they first move into their shared floor together.

Loki hated her guts. He refused to talk to her, look at her, breath the same air as her. Darcy, stubborn and loud-mouthed, voiced her dislike of him very loudly so he knew that the feeling was mutual. That led to her ignoring him, which lead to being bent over on a kitchen counter, naked and exposed, extremely happy. As much as she hated the raven-haired Prince, she could see past his hateful interior and tell he was hiding something. That's why it was no surprise when the golden, beautiful Thor sat her down and told Darcy about Thanos and all of Loki's horrific back-story. Sarcastic and stubborn, Darcy knew if she was in the same predicament as her favourite God, she would have gone crazy too, maybe that is why she finds it so hard to hate him these days. That was a year ago, now she feels like they've just started on a new adventure that could end very, very well for both of them. Jane's right though, Asgardians are very talented in the bedroom. If she was impressed by what just happened, Darcy is sure she’s in for something amazing and she looks forward to it.

Of course, Darcy is now stuck. How does one continue from that? Does Loki want to have sex? It sounded like he did with his I cannot watch you any more and  I need to touch you. Does she ask? Jump on him? When she feels his hands slide underneath her loose t-shirt, she straightens herself up, stretching as best as she can because kitchen counters are so not comfortable. Loki is watching her every move, eyes blown wide with what she can only assume is lust, hair fallen around his face and a faint flush on his skin. It’s at this moment Darcy remembers she is naked. Utterly naked.

Now, Darcy has had many guys lust over her. Big boobs and a killer sense of humour really appeals to those jerk-off's that do nothing but use her for shitty sex. When she looks at Loki she can see a man who may use her, but at least the sex won’t be shitty. “Well,” she starts, raising her eyebrows at the God in front of her. “What happens now?”

Loki’s laugh is her favourite sound right now. He laughs at her, genuinely laughs at her and the sound makes her inside melt. “Now, I can either drag you to the couch or to my bed. Your preference.” Is his response, a smirk on his lips.

Heat rushes through Darcy and she turns, rushing down the hallway to the room that has always been out-of-bounds for the intern. Darcy was full of nerves, she had always thought Loki lived in the a villainous cave, but now she was going to find out.  She honestly never thought her day would involve sex with a Norse God that she had only ever heard of in mythology. Holy shit was she excited for this.


	3. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.. Here it is! I am so, so sorry about the delay - my internet got cut off for THREE weeks! I felt so bad the whole time, but I didn't want to use my school computer to write a smutty fanfic chapter at school, so I decided to wait. I cannot thank you enough for all of your comments and all of the support! It's been amazing. I am so nervous about this chapter, I started off feeling very awkward about it but now it's almost 1am and I've been writing it very fluently in my half-asleep half-sick state. So, if there's parts that don't make sense/typos/changes in tense, please let me know! I am not in the best shape since I have a head cold and a throat infection, pls forgive any mistakes. It's obviously unbeated too.  
> I hope it's as hot as I think it is. 
> 
> Thank you so much x

Darcy only remembered magic existed when the Norse god suddenly appeared in front of her as she made her way to Loki's bedroom, or the Lair of Evil as she loved to call it. His hands were on her before she could even register his magical appearance and Darcy groaned at his cool hands running over her warm body. "Miss Lewis," Loki said, the name rolling off his tongue in a way that shouldn't be so hot, his signature sexy smirk on his face that Darcy just wants to slap off every time she sees it. "You look incredibly sexy after an orgasm. You should walk around like this more often."  At this, Darcy couldn't help but roll her eyes, even though his voice did incredible things to her lower section which was already sensitive as hell.

"I'll walk around like this more often if you're willing to give me mind-blowing orgasms more often," she murmured, giving him a small smile before he leaned down to capture her lips. It started off as a slow kiss, lips brushing together gently but ended up bruising, lip biting kiss that took the breath out of Darcy. Her arms began to snake around his neck, pulling him as close as she could get. She craved his taste, the mint 

"Darcy Lewis, you will be the death of me." The god said between kisses, hands slowly making their way down her front. It took Darcy a moment to realise that his shirt was gone, but she was thankful for it since she could actually touch him now, unwind her arms from his neck to run her hands all over his well-toned arms and chest. Honestly, it's like he's carved out of stone he is so perfect-looking. When Loki's hand found her already sensitive clit, Darcy jolted, crying out at the touch. However, she found herself pressing herself against his fingers, trying desperately to get more friction.

Darcy Lewis has never been overly self-conscious, despite that, she feels slightly embarrassed by the way her body is responding to Loki's touch. It's a sinful touch and Darcy wants more of it, wants to get lost in the intoxicating thing that is Loki. She buries her head in Loki's neck, breathing heavily while he rubs ever so slowly, slowly building the unadulterated desire for more. Soon Darcy starts to whimper for more,  _please, please Loki, please,_ but Loki removes his hand from the wetness of Darcy and wraps her legs around his waist, hands firmly placed on her bottom to support her while he carries her, still wearing his stupid perfect leather pants, to the bed. 

With every step he takes Darcy can feel his hardness against her core and she can't help the needy moan that pushes past her lips as she tries to grind against his hips, causing Loki's breath to come is short huffs. It is only when the Trickster god lowers her onto his massive bed - does one person really need such a massive bed? - that the desperate, sinful friction stops and Loki can take a moment to look at her. He admires the view of the mortal - swollen lips, thin sheen of sweat, long mahogany hair sticking to her forehead and eyes blown wide with pure lust. She looks so wanton and needy which fuels the dark desire to take her right now. 

Loki has a reputation for sleeping around in Asgard - back when their people actually liked him to a degree. It has been so long since he has felt such a strong desire for someone, and of all people it's Darcy Lewis, the only mortal that has a wit as great as his, besides Stark probably, although he'd never tell the oaf of a man that. She came into his life and Loki never paid anything attention to her, which he regrets now. Why didn't he notice her earlier? He could have been making her into a needy lust fuelled mess a couple of months ago. "Loki, hurry the fuck up!" Darcy begged, licking her lips as she stared at Loki through her eyelashes. 

"As my lady commands," he growled, lowering himself over her. Loki hooked one of her legs around his waist, his hardness brushing against her thigh.  He knew she was wet and ready for him, so Loki pressed their foreheads together and slowly began sinking into her entrance, causing the woman beneath him to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Loki stilled to give her time to adjust to him length and the fullness of him, even with as wet as she is, he is bigger then she is used to, waiting for her to let him move.  It was only after Darcy gave a slight nod that Loki began to set the pace, thrusting a slow speed. He kissed her again, a brief brush of the lips before he moved to her neck. The intern knew she would be wearing Loki's love bites for a couple of days, but she didn't care. 

Darcy pushed a hand between them, eager to start stimulating the little nub that was already hyper sensitive thanks to her previous orgasm and Loki's teasing. Meanwhile, Loki focus his attention on Darcy's breasts. Sucking and biting at her hardened nipples, making Darcy writhe beneath him, her hand picking up speed as his thrusts became faster. The heat in Loki's stomach was building and knowing that Darcy, his Darcy, was touching herself made it harder to keep himself in control. 

His actions became rougher, the Trickster god began biting at her collarbone, revealing in the mewls and moans tumbling from Darcy's lips. Loki pulled her hands away from herself and above her head, earning him a string of incoherent sounds from the woman below. However, Loki didn't care. He was taking control. The fiery heat of Darcy was causing him to lose all control and give into his carnal desires to take her as he pleases. His hand replaced hers, rubbing her clit in time with the slamming of his hips against hers while the other hand restrained her wrists. At this, Darcy makes a strangled sound and clenches around Loki, causing his breath to hitch suddenly.   

"Darcy Lewis, when you orgasm again, I want to hear you scream my name," Loki growled against her ear, biting her earlobe and making her arch her back to press up against him. At this point Darcy can't form words - not with the intensity of her second orgasm quickly rising. Not many guys have been able to give her more than one orgasm in one night, but then again Loki isn't any guy. No, he's the God of Mischief who is currently fucking her brains out and it is  _great._ She does not even care if she dies right now, all of her is hypersensitive to touch and Loki is driving her  _insane._  

The scrape of his teeth against her neck, collarbone, the small bites against her breasts all send her into a frenzy of sensation and she feels like she's drowning in the pleasure of it. Darcy can't stop the moans coming from her, no matter how humiliating they sound, Loki seems eager to make her moan with every lick and bite he places on her body. Darcy comes first, an orgasm ripping through her with such surprise she all but screams her lovers name and she's lost in the shock-waves of pleasure as Loki's thrust become erratic, her whole body tenses around him and that's what pushes Loki over the edge as he fills her with a moan and she can hear her name being said repeatedly, almost like a prayer. 

It takes Darcy a moment to come back to reality and realise that Loki is on top of her, head buried in-between her neck and shoulder, the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing. He's still peppering her neck in small, gentle kisses while his fingers run up and down her side, gently coaxing her back to the real world. "That was the best sex I have ever had," Darcy breathed, lazily lowering her arms from above her head to rest on Loki's back. 

"I agree, Darcy Lewis. You're wonderful to watch when you're experiencing the best orgasm of your life." Loki teased, sounding just as out of breath as her. Her whole body felt like jelly, she doesn't know if she'd be able to stand without collapsing onto the floor right now, but Darcy decides it's totally worth it. Sex with a Norse god needs to happen more often. Especially this Norse god.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I really, really don't know. Let me know if this is any good. All mistakes are mine!


End file.
